


Shutting Him Out

by FriendOfTheFugitive



Series: Miscellaneous Ferion [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger, Angry Sex, Angst, Dorian Spoilers, M/M, Post-Doom Upon All the World, Quiet Treatment, Sad, Top Dorian Pavus, poor baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:20:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7170821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendOfTheFugitive/pseuds/FriendOfTheFugitive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unable to vocalize the ball of emotions that are forming in Ferron Lavellan, Dorian is faced with unfair treatment that pushes him to confront his love's unexplained silence.  </p><p>Minor Dorian story spoilers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shutting Him Out

_The softness of his rich skin whispered along the light, freckled raise of the elf's cheek bone. His skin relaxed at the gentle caress, his keen eyes closed lightly, basking in the bliss Dorian left him in. Ferron's slender fingers curled around his hand, stopping its path to his raven hair. He guided the edged knuckles of Dorian's hand to his mouth. His thin lips pursed, planting slow pecks in the valleys and hills of his relaxed fist._

_“I received a letter from Mae this morning, Amatus.” He spoke warily into the once secure silence. There was a beat of nothingness between them. Dorian wavered, focusing on the way Ferron's eyes tightened shut and his features seemed to turn ever so slightly downwards. He could have just stopped there, pretended that he had never spoken at all...but that seemed foolish. The couple could not avoid this forever. Ferron had been made aware of Dorian's desire to fix his home months ago. “She claims that leaving now is too dangerous for me. Although, she will send word once traveling becomes a safer option. When that time comes, I will have to go.”_

_Another beat, this one seemed to speak volumes within the silence that suddenly hung heavy between them. It was calming before, but now it was volatile, an unknown predator that lurked within the shadows of the dimly lit room. Dorian pressed his forehead against Ferron's, he felt a drop of water fall on the point of his nose. The moment a sense of security fell over Dorian, Ferron spoke in a flat voice, not allowing any emotion to slip through. “So you fucked me to soften the blow.”_

_As quickly as he said it, he sat up and moved his legs over the side of the bed. He leaned forward, his back was curved and his hands clutched the mattress. Dorian was left in a state of utter shock,_ did Ferron really just say that? _Ferron clenched his jaw tightly, and suddenly Dorian was determined not to let Ferron's emotions get the better of him. He sat up and placed a soft hand on Ferron's back, his voice was steady, “No, Amatus, I was searching for the right time to bring it up - we've been separate for the whole day...I figured a moment to breath-,”_

_Ferron's skin tightened under his touch. He quickly stood to his feet and stepped into his trousers. He slid them on and quickly tied the strings in the front. He ducked down low and grabbed his own shirt. He buttoned the front of it swiftly, not missing a single button like he normally did. Dorian swung his feet to the side of the bed and was about to stand when Ferron spoke hollowly, “I want to be alone.”_

“I'm tired of this, Ferron! Haven't you proven your point enough?” Dorian pleaded, his hands wrapped around the elf's shoulders, gripping his arms tightly as if he was afraid Ferron would slip from his grasp. He lightly shook him, trying to force his eyes to look back into his gaze. Ferron didn't budge. His blazing glare stuck stubbornly on the floor, his fists clenched tightly by his sides.

_The desk slammed against the wall with a harsh crack. Ferron's hand braced against the wall behind him, keeping his head from following the movement of the desk. Red blush flushed his cheeks, sweat covered his being and the sound he chose to focus on was the labored breaths that pushed past his parted lips._

_He felt Dorian's lips capture his in a demanding way. Even in the fiery passion that raged between them, Dorian took Ferron's usual role of fighting for some sort of intimacy. Instead of responding to the guidance of his lips, Ferron turned his head to the side, unlocking their contact. He kept his eyes shut, trying harder than ever to focus on the feeling, sounds, and smells of his own being - as if he was alone._

_A breath huffed in frustration against his cheek. The thrusts that delved into him became harder. They drove the air out of Ferron's lungs and smacked his back against the wall. He didn't mind the scratchy material that bit into his back - it just pushed him closer to his end. He could feel the tightening in his stomach when lips were suddenly upon his once again._

_He growled lowly, his free hand pressed against Dorian's burning cheek. He felt the Mage lean into his touch, and for a brief second he felt like an absolute monster. The feeling could have easily cracked the walls he raised and shattered his cold front right in that moment. Avoiding the rapidly approaching meltdown, he pushed Dorian's head from his, breaking apart their lips. His hand slid down Dorian's body to his burning chest. When Dorian swelled within him, he pulled his hips backwards and pushed Dorian away enough to slip out. Dorian came, landing on Ferron's curled stomach, but Ferron didn't get to that point._

_Dorian rested his hands on either side of Ferron, supporting himself. When his mind cleared and he noticed what had just transpired, he was taken aback. He spoke behind a ragged breath, “I'm surprised you didn't want me inside when I-,” He tried to joke, but his stream of thought was interrupted when he felt Ferron pushing his arm off the desk so he could slide away. “At least let me help you finish, Amatus.”_

_Ferron grabbed a nearby rag and wiped it along his abdomen, cleaning up the mess Dorian made. He chucked it at him, commanding an unusual “clean this up.” He sighed and quickly got dressed. He took a few steps forwards, heading towards the door when he suddenly stopped. Something in him begged him to remain in his silence and just leave, but the other part wanted someone else to pay for his pain. “There was nothing to finish.”_

Ferron's fists smacked hard against the metal counter top. The pots and pans rattled at the sudden vibrations. Dorian almost jumped at the force of his anger. “What do you _want_ , Dorian?! You want me to get _mad?!_ You want me to tell you how I _feel?!_ ” He screamed in Dorian's shocked face. Abruptly, he turned to the pots and pans that neatly aligned the countertop. He gripped a few handles and flung them across the room. The sound was worse than breaking bones. “How's this, _Dorian?!_ Are you _satisfied!?_ ”

A frustrated yell ripped hoarsely from his throat as he dragged his arms along the countertop. The pots and pans crashed to the floor, taking some plates with them that shattered on contact. When Ferron's eyes finally met Dorian's, they were bloodshot and his cheeks were stained with tears. His hands were shaking by his sides, and his ears were pulled back in a frightened way, not one that indicated the hostility he displayed. A sob forced its way up his throat. It shattered Dorian's heart.

_“You're just getting to bed now? It's early in the morning - the day is just getting started.” Dorian smiled as he watched the reflection of Ferron slip out of his clothes and crawl into bed. The elf looked more somber than tired, but Dorian wasn't going to speak into it. It wasn't unusual for Ferron to find sleep whenever he could._

_“_ Your _day may just be getting started.” Ferron muttered, the words were almost bitter. He rolled over to his side, turning his back towards Dorian. The Mage ignored his comment and continued to fix his hair in the mirror. Once it was the way he liked it, he moved away from the desk. Unaware that his shirt had caught the corner, he pulled away, moving the desk from the wall. The sudden resistance stopped him, but it was too late. The mirror slipped backwards and fell into the crack. It clamored to the floor and then broke with a sharp noise._

 _“_ Kaffas! _” Dorian cursed as he unhooked his shirt and got to his hands and knees to clean the mess up. He quickly pulled the desk away from the wall before he reached for the shards. He was gathering up glass in a not so quiet manner when Ferron spoke from the bed._

_“I'm trying to sleep. If you want to make noise, you can leave.”_

He snarled, a ripple of pain burning through his body. “Just _leave_ , Dorian! You're already going, anyways!” he turned around, resting his hands on the counter. He stared into the steel reflection of the sink. He ignored the drops of liquid that fell from his eyes and blurred the already muddy reflection. Guilt gnawed at his gut, and his heart wanted to leap from his chest.

Dorian was speechless. In the year of knowing Ferron, he had never seen such an explosive anger. Ferron had strict coping habits that let him deal with such things. He was bottling everything up, and now it was exploding like molten hot lava. He took a deep breath and dropped his eyes. “Ferron...”

“ _No_ , Dorian. You've _never_ been 'left', you've _always_ been the one leaving. You have _no_ idea how such a thing feels...” the words were pushed through his gritted teeth. His fingers curled hard into the metal - and it hurt him more than anything. “The guilt, the unworthiness, the self-doubt of  'is he leaving because he wants to fix his homeland or is he leaving because I am no longer of use to him?'. The gnawing feeling in the pit of your soul at the very thought of waking up one morning to an _empty_ bed. Not to mention the fear of falling apart every moment there is a chance to breathe - forcing yourself to stay busy - to try and somehow escape from _their_ memory...all of it...you _cannot_ even comprehend.” His voice broke, and every bit of tension he had in his body - every point of anger - shattered at that very moment.

Dorian watched his shoulders drop and a wave of heart wrenching sympathy washed over him. He was right, in retrospect. Dorian had always been the one to leave, and he usually did so to protect his feelings...he couldn't blame Ferron for retreating to protect his own. Armor was an easy thing to build up but a hard thing to break down. He dropped his gaze and swallowed whatever anger or pride he had in that moment. “You're right, Ferron. In the past, I have always been the one leaving...I didn't know what it meant to love someone so deeply and so passionately. I just wish you would have said something instead of shutting me out...” his voice dropped pitch as he spoke, indicating his sincerity. There was no mock or mirth to be found.

A sob coursed through his body, shaking him. He was quiet again, but it was a different kind of quiet. It wasn't an angry, intentional silence. It was the type of silence that indicated a sense of control, a control that was too dangerous to waver in. A slip in the grasp on his emotions meant a wave of sorrow that was never going to end. Dorian knew that kind of emotion all too well. He reached out to him, gently pressing his hand on Ferron's shoulder.

There was a brief moment of resistance before Ferron spun around and collapsed in Dorian's arms. He clutched hard on the back of Dorian's shirt, sobs shaking his body and fighting past his bared teeth. In Dorian's arms, he felt secure and safe, and relief washed over him. His angry silence was more weight to bare than he thought. “I don't want you to leave me...I'm sorry Dorian, _I'm so sorry..._ ” the words were almost lost in his cries.

Dorian felt the power in Ferron, the anguish and pent up grief he held onto for so long just came pouring out like a rain that seemed to never end. Dorian pressed his lips to Ferron's temple, holding him as tight as he possibly could. “It's alright Amatus...we will _never_ be apart for long - and I _swear_ I will find a way to see you whenever I can…it’s difficult right now and the unknown is frightening…I wish I could change the circumstances – but this is something I need to do.” The words were whispered but weighty.

Ferron cried harder, his fingers curled into the fabric and his knuckles pressed into Dorian’s back. His sobs were uncontrollable at this point, rolling through him in hard waves. “Don’t leave…I love you…” He whispered underneath his cries.

“I’m not going anywhere – not today – not anytime soon.” He gently rocked Ferron, placing soft kisses on his temple and forehead. “I love you too, Ferron…more than words can describe…” he promised before taking a deep breath. He smoothed down the back of Ferron’s hair and rested his hand on the back of his head. “Come on, darling, let’s go to my room and clean you up.” He felt Ferron’s grip relax on his back and when he pulled away, Dorian spoke sincerely, “I’m here, alright? I’m here.”


End file.
